Mercy of a Moon
by adamheap
Summary: Part three of a trilogy. Follows The End of the Resistance and Seerow's Lie. Narrated by Aldrea. Aldrea has been imprisoned by Visser Eight for years. A mysterious stranger arrives and offers her both vengeance and the prospect of freedom, both for her and her son.


**Mercy of a Moon**

When it rained, it provided a sound. It was a gentle hum, somewhere far above, and with it came the dripping where my tomb had begun to crumble. For most of the years that I called the place home, it was the only sound the deafened me from my own hesitant breathing.

My arms were numb. My legs were heavy, and my vision would be forever sunk below a daze of light-headedness. Were I to be freed from my eternal shackles, I would simply collapse to the ground and never remember how to stand. But I still had something to stand for, even if my physical condition disallowed it.

 _That beast! I'd squash him like the bug he was! And I'd never let the pain end! Never!_

The bitter taste of rotten sawdust paid an unwelcome visit again, the remnants from my last meal. It could have been a day ago, or more. I hadn't been able to distinguish days and night for a long-long time. The only change I ever saw was the dimming of broken torches as they flickered on my walls in time with my sluggish blinking.

Stuck in a prison till my death, stuck with the memories of my defeat. My Husband's last moment, a twisted ventriloquist dummy for the Visser's torment. I remembered the feeling of his blood splattering across my abdomen and every stuttered breath that I took. My son, forever enslaved by that very same, sick-minded monster. I wasn't even aware of the kind of tortures he was being put through. How much of his soul had withered away under the Yeerk's control? I couldn't know.

I would try to close my eyes when he came, if my sapped energy hadn't already forcefully done so. But I was weak and foolish. Some part of me still hoped, and that part pleaded me to search for anything that remained of my son. He was lost and alone, and what kind of mother would I be if I didn't bypass his Yeerk and look to him, tell him that I loved him. No matter how many times the Visser would use his body to rape me.

And on top of it all, I would never see my second son. The son born of the sick incest that the Visser forced upon us. A child doomed to a lifetime of cruelty and despair, like so many others just like him. That, of everything, hurt me the most. More than the claws at my neck, or the constant screaming of my malnourished body.

Every waking moment, I would fear his entry. Any slight adjustment of the veil that kept out the sun was a damning turn of the spit. Either the Visser, or one of his lackeys with a jug of dry sawdust and something to keep my snout pried open.

It fluttered, and with it my body tensed, shaking with the anticipation of the millionth round. An arm reached in and turned aside the veil, followed by another with a jug in hand. A small jangling sound echoed around the walls.

"No…" I coughed. Barely more than the half-hearted syllable left my throat.

I didn't recognise the Hork-Bajir that entered. He must have been new, but the way he walked over was as if he owned the place. I struggled in my restraints innately.

The Yeerk began to speak in a hushed tone. I wasn't used to that, and I had to strain to hear. "Aldrea, do not draw attention. I'm not here to hurt you."

I didn't know what to think. After so many years, maybe the Visser was finally coming up with a new trick. The Yeerk approached closely, and I saw that there was no sawdust in the jug. I saw the wobbling shimmer of liquid. Water.

He lifted it up to my snout and I desperately obliged. The jug tipped forward, and I placed my snout in to gobble at the cool, clean water. It was a heavenly pleasure, and I didn't care how undignified it came across. Water never came so refreshing.

"Drink," The Yeerk said. "Get some strength back."

I took my fill, using my tongue to lap up every last drop before he took away the jug. I panted heavily, remembering to breathe again. "Thank you." I said, so relieved for what he had given.

I heard the jangling noise again. When he raised up a set of Yeerkish keys, my suspicions were instantly raised.

"He will be back soon. We haven't got long." The mysterious Yeerk said.

"What are you doing?" I asked raspily. "What is this?"

The Yeerk took a key from the set and took it to the restraints, starting with those around my wrists. "This can't continue. You will kill Visser Eight."

"What?!" I gasped. The raise in my voice scratched at my throat and sent me into a painful coughing fit.

"Quiet," He insisted. "You cannot draw attention."

I recovered and spoke much more quietly. "How? How do I kill him? He's too well protected."

He finished with the first restraint, unlocking it but not opening it for my hand to come loose. "When he returns, he will not know that your restraints have been unlocked. When the opportunity arises, you will kill him. He won't have time to react."

The next restraint was unlocked. I shifted my arm, testing the strength, and was able to force the metal bar away. I could free myself. He got to work on those holding my feet.

"Why?" I asked forcefully. "Why are you doing this?"

"The Visser has done terrible things. He's gone too far. The most just action is for his death, and for your vengeance."

"What do you know?"

All the locks undone, he was able to stare me directly in the face. "I was there when he murdered your husband. I kicked your son and held his head beneath the pool water as part of his orders. I lost faith in him. I lost faith in the Empire. I decided on a different route. Call me a vigilante. That's probably closest to the truth."

"Is this some trick?!" I seethed. "What game are you playing?!"

"It's no game, Aldrea," He reassured. "I work for justice, and the justice here is your revenge. The justice is the end of a terrible Yeerk Empire, the end of slavery."

"And yet you continue to use a host to do your work. Why are you lying to me?!"

His face sunk to annoyance. He stepped back, and steadily lowered himself to his hands and knees. I watched, curious, wondering what he was doing. Then, I saw his head turn to the side, and a small, squirming bit of matter reveal itself from his ear. The Yeerk dropped into a waiting hand, and after a shake of dizziness, the Hork-Bajir rose back up to his feet, the Yeerk slug caged gently in twisted fingers. The complex, intelligent stare of a Yeerked Hork-Bajir was replaced with the dully optimistic, innocent expression of a free soul.

"Meppa is free," He said quietly. "Come with Yeerk to help."

"I don't understand…"

"Live far away. Away from bad Yeerks."

"How many?"

He tapped his free hand to his neck. "Five."

I slumped. It was not a hopeful number, but seeing him happy and free came with some good, even if he was partnering with this rogue Yeerk. The Hork-Bajir were not manipulative or deceptive, and so Meppa's words came to me as honest truth.

"You will free more?" I asked of him.

Meppa didn't look overly convinced at his own ability to explain. "Let Yeerk say."

He raised his caged hand back up to his ear, kneeling down to the ground again for extra balance. The Yeerk slug slithered back into his ear, and within moments he returned shakily to his feet, intelligent gaze returned.

"We do our best. We are but a small faction, and the Yeerks are many. It will take time."

"You will free my sons?" I asked. "Will you help them see freedom, like Meppa?"

He bowed his head regretfully. "Your youngest son may have a chance, but we make no special attempt for specific individuals. There are far too many just like him, and he will soon journey to a solar system currently out of our reach. Seerow…" He paused and looked back to me. "Your revenge will be his only freedom."

It must have been the water I'd gulped down, but for the first time in so long, tears began to strain from my eyes. I sobbed, imagining the scene in my head. My wonderful, who'd already suffered more than enough. Only for me to end it all. Was that good? Or bad? Would he have to forgive me, or would the act be my forgiveness to him?

"Is it truly justice?" I said.

"Visser Eight's torture must end," The Yeerk replied staunchly. "For your son's good, as well as your own."

I accepted it, for my deepest thoughts knew it was true. "What is your name? You deserve to be called more than just Yeerk."

"I am a moon," He said. "That's all you need to know."

I laughed bitterly, and as much as my feeble body would allow. "A moon… You Yeerk's have never been known for poetry and metaphor."

"Justice is poetry. He will arrive soon, so I must go."

"Thank you. Both of you."

He had turned his back to leave, making way for the veiled entrance. "Good luck, Aldrea."

The time came soon, at the moment I'd almost gone back to sleep as the blood ran from my brain to my feet. The water I'd taken in had provided me with a little more energy, or what _seemed_ like energy. I had been picturing the moment that I ended that disgusting Yeerk, savouring his death almost as much as I grieved the loss of my son. I thought at first that I wouldn't have either the strength or the courage, but the more of I thought of his pain, the easier the task seemed.

I just hoped that he would live long enough to give me a glimpse of himself. To rid himself of the Yeerk grimace and show me the Hork-Bajir I loved.

He waltzed in as he always did, with a cocky stride and a victorious grin, like I was a trophy he could polish in order to stroke his ego. He carried nothing with him. No jug, no probe, and no indication that he knew what was about to befall him. I kept my limbs back to the wood I lay against, digging myself in weakly with my blades.

"My dear Aldrea, the day is bright and the temperature soothing," He sighed blissfully. "Such a pity that you can't see it for yourself."

I did as I always had, resigning myself to silence, not buying into his mockery and gloating. Any differing behaviour would only alert him into suspiciousness. Even as he came closer and jabbed me painfully in the side with a claw, I reacted with little more than a grunt.

"You never talk to me," He groaned. "Come on. I want to hear you beg and cry! Or better yet, I want to see you angry! I want to see you swear revenge. It would make things so much more pleasurable for me."

He was standing back, hands to his hips. For one moment, I thought he would sense something wrong. He would see the unlocked restraints just barely holding me in place. He would only sometimes check them, more reliant on his underlings to take such duties. He came here for his guiltless pleasure, and not to work.

"Still nothing…" He muttered. "Not a word. Maybe you need some encouragement."

He hadn't noticed! And I looked up as he came closer to rub claws down my abdomen. He stepped up, bringing us level, and began to press his body against my own. His hands then gripped at the wood behind mine and he breathed dryly against my neck.

"I'll fuck you till you cry…" He whispered.

He was getting ready to perform on me again, his head dulling, alertness disappearing. My opportunity had arrived. I slowly pulled my right arm from the restraint, quiet enough for him to not notice. I wrapped my hand calmly beneath his snout and lifted it to stare at me. His eyes widened in horror.

"Please forgive me." I said, and then I drew my arm to the left and sliced it back, blades exposed to his neck. He continued to stare with shock, as the blood began to trickle from the cuts I had left. I pulled up a foot with a _clang_ as its restraint hit the hard wood, and placed it to his torso, forcefully thrusting him backwards. He hit the ground with a terrible thud.

I pulled away from the boards that had been my home for so long. The air that ran down my back felt foreign and strange, like it had forgotten everything but the splinters that pierced it.

There, before me, he lay dying, struggling to breathe as the tears ravaged his throat. Desperate, confused hands clutched to it, but to no avail. Not even the immense healing ability of the Hork-Bajir could save him. I tried to walk forward, but it was a skill that my body was no longer capable of, and I collapsed freely, landing beside the Visser who could do nothing more than turn his head and acknowledge me.

My body was weak, and my newfound freedom was proving to be the final confrontation for it to face. I felt myself dying, sapped of the last bit of energy when I sliced his throat. But I didn't mind. I had nothing to go on with. Only imprisonment. I used what was left to crawl over the Visser, to stare him down before he finally succumbed to his fatal injury. To rub in the fact that I'd had the last laugh.

And I did. I laughed. I laughed right in his face. When I did that, his face faded. The bitter anger and cold intellect of the Yeerk dropped away.

A scared, lonely Hork-Bajir took his place. My poor, poor son. He, too, was dying.

I wrapped my claws gently around the back of his head and held him like I used to when he was only a tiny child. His jaw shuddered, and I knew what he was trying but failing to say.

"My Seerow," I whispered. "My precious _kawatnoj_. I always loved you. I always will."

His hand reached up and shakily rubbed at my neck. I dipped my head down and connected our blades. One last goodbye kiss.

"We shall go to see your father. He is waiting."

Seerow's faded away, his eyelids taking their last blink. And then I, too, felt the distant calls of the beyond beckoning. I lay down with my son, and awaited its arrival.


End file.
